Letter 35

Dear Herkus,

This place is wretched. It’s cold and silent and reflects death. There are curses within the consecrated walls and a history of pain that was inflicted because of the dragonlords. Not all of them were kind. Many of them were horrible. 

We found the tomb we needed to go to but before we could go in Actaeon found the resting place of his comrades. He was in so much pain. It was horrible and it made me realize that if everyone I cared about was suddenly gone, and I had been used for decades by others and it had fogged my mind, I, too, would have a death wish. He has been denied so many simple rights afforded to his fallen brothers. 

As he searched and wept, I suddenly wanted to do something for those long since passed. I could do nothing for them really but maybe I could make an effort on his behalf? I found several seeds from my hair (it’s slowly getting better and more smooth but still not great. That brush is giving it’s coin worth.) I didn’t quite have enough (if I hadn’t bathed and brushed so much I would have) so I had to borrow from Clio’s flowers but I was able to make some bloom, and I placed them on their tombs. 

My heart ached in a way I didn’t fully understand. When those I loved left this world it gave me focus within my grief. It gave me resolution to fight and push forward. But I don’t think that is the case for Actaeon and those entombed here. It isn’t what pushes him forward, but rather pulls him back. It’s the reason he seeks death so flippantly. 

He came up to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. We were the only two there and I decided I needed to tell him that I was grateful for him. I know it didn’t come out that way. It came out more like “I think you’re insane but brave but that’s good because it made me be brave because you scare me more than a lich and I don’t think I would have stepped up with anyone else because they wouldn’t push me the way you did” and I know it’s selfish but I asked him not to die yet because we still needed him. And I know it must have been so painful for him to be there. It would be for anyone. 

Then he confided in me about some of the things he had been ordered to do. Horrible things against the Fey, especially dryads. I asked if Clio knew and he said no. I promised I wouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t my story to tell her. 

In an odd way, it was a very nice moment for both of us. Is that bad to say? He gave me an obsidian dagger. I accepted it and felt oddly special for him giving it to me. But then I just felt awkward and like always I ran away because that’s what I do. Maybe my name should be Flee.

So much more happened but I need a break from writing. Is caring for others always this intense?

With Love,